


There Might Be Some Fight Left In Him

by WordCollector



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mentions Suicide, NO Canon Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, minor original character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordCollector/pseuds/WordCollector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Buchanan Barnes’ memory is shot, and he’s afraid he might be crazy. He turns his back on what he was before, struggling to be something else, new and simple. But a news headline about Captain America sends him into a tailspin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His morning starts like any other, alarm, shower, get dressed, and downstairs to boot up the computer in the office. The big garage bay door rolls up while he sits in the dim office, with his steaming cup of coffee in front of the glowing screen. Big Joe comes into the office looking for coffee. Soon, Joe has his coat off, mug in hand and is stirring in sugar. Joe stands next to the coffee maker, and takes a sip before he finally spoke. “You watch the news last night?”

Bucky shakes his head no, and Joe continues “Aliens again. Aliens. I can’t get over that crap.”

Bucky just shrugs and gets the invoice programs up and running. “Are we gonna send J Trucking another bill? It’s been thirty days?” he changes the subject. Big Joe has a small TV in the tiny room they let Bucky crash in upstairs. He never turns it on. The few times he watched the news, it left him feeling shaky and wired. 

He knew Joe and his wife thought he served in Iraq. When he first hit town, and shakily pointed to the ‘help wanted’ sign they had in the front window of the garage, Joe talked about how his cousin was in Iraq and came back different. Changed in a way that left him drinking every day. 

Bucky tried drinking when he first found himself wandering and confused. He just wanted to drink and forget. But it didn’t work. First he tried Alcohol, then stronger stuff, nothing had any effect. Eventually he gave up trying to find quick relief. Joe didn’t tell him till months later, when they were having a quiet moment after Joe’s Uncle Dan‘s funeral, that his cousin committed suicide a few years after he returned. He had isolated himself from everyone with his drinking. Uncle Dan found him. He had been dead for over a week, sitting there in his living room, and no one knew. Uncle Dan never got over it. Mourned his son till the day he died. Dan’s bright, handsome, funny, hero of a son never really returned from the war. Dan’s son was an empty shell when he came home, and nothing they did seemed able to fix it. Bucky was left a little shaky and sweaty after that story, and he could see Joe was sorry he brought it up.

As the day went on it turned into a long, tiring day in the garage. Right at closing, a local lady’s car broke down. They got the call and showed up with the Tow-Truck. Bucky rode shotgun, bundled in a heavy, black, thrift store coat, and torn jeans. The icy wind blew and he pulled his gray scarf over his face while he helped Joe secure her car with heavy chains. Amy, Joe’s wife of twenty years, made the scarf for Bucky last winter, along with hat and eventually an afghan. 

Joe was a good guy and stayed till the job was done, and the lady was on her way. Bucky had to clean after Joe was done, and that made his day even longer than Joe’s. Amy usually took pity on them, and brought supper to the garage. Amy’s meals were the only real full meals Bucky ate. Most days, it was a few burgers eaten while sitting on his bed, or a slice of white bread from the loaf he kept next to the dusty TV. 

Bucky had lost weight. He tried not to lose too much weight after the time early on, when his left shoulder started to hurt at the point where the metal was covered with scarred skin. It burned more than the normal pain. When he investigated, and actually looked at himself in the mirror, he saw that his shoulder had begun to look too big for the rest of him. He didn’t know what would happen to the connections where metal met flesh as he lost muscle mass, but he didn‘t think it was going to be good. He started to eat protein shakes to keep the weight on after that. Mostly he realized had to make sure he ate. Every day. Three times minimum. It’s easier, now at the garage. Amy slips him meals at least four times a week. She just drops them off, and doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He’s glad, and wants to tell her that he looks forward to them, but, he doesn’t. He works out a mumbled “Thanks” while looking at his feet. She smiles, and goes back to fussing over Joe.

Joe washed up and lingered a while in the office, while Bucky put away the tools and swept the oil-dry into a bin. The day ended with Bucky in filthy work clothes, and covered in dirt. The job at the garage gave him an excuse to wear heavy work gloves all day, they hid the metal hand even in summer. It made life easier, even if he rarely saw anyone but Joe and Amy. 

The old woman who worked the counter at the diner across the street was his next most frequent contact, and he could tell she wasn’t sure if she trusted him or not. He was the weird, long haired, guy in ragged clothes, who hides his left hand in his pocket and lives over the garage. Bucky had trouble with eye contact, and he knew that made it worse. The cook and the woman usually stopped talking when he came in. She had tried small talk when he first came to town over a year ago, but it made him sweat. She stopped after a few tries. Now after all this time, he still doesn’t really have it in him to try to change it, so he just takes his burgers home and eats in his room.

Bucky was exhausted at the end of the long day, he washed up and went to bed. The room above the garage had a tiny bathroom with a toilet and an ancient shower. The shower usually ran rusty for a while till it cleared up, and it barely made luke warm water. He never mentioned it to Joe. He knew they would want to fix it, but they could barely afford to pay him. Bucky typed the invoices and kept track of the bills, he knew the money situation around here. 

He pulled out his library book and read while lying in bed. The room was quiet, and he could hear everything out on the street. The raccoons that raided the nearby trashcans and made their way through town were right on time. Occasionally there was the swish of a car heading down the road. Finally around two in the morning, he felt drowsy, and set aside his book. He stared at the ceiling for another half hour before drifting off. 

The dreams came every night. Sometimes he remembered them, mostly he didn’t. He liked it best when he didn’t. Remembering meant a shaky morning. He didn’t try to remember his past. After Captain America told him his name, he went and checked the museum. It sure looked like him. He felt like he knew Captain America, somewhere, somehow. But when he tried to remember, he remembered things that couldn’t possibly be real. Things of nightmares, and torture, and horrible things. So he just pretended his life started last year. Anything else belonged to somebody else. He had shed it like a skin when he left behind the black leather body armor covered in empty holsters and mostly empty ammo cases. 

After the Helicarrier came down he shed the body armor in DC. Bucky walked for miles in stolen clothes and ill-fitting sneakers. Eventually, hitchhiking till he neared a New York that looked frightening and unfamiliar. He then turned away from the city and continued on up into the mountains till he happened upon this small town. It wasn’t even a blip on the map, but there was a sign in the window, and they fed him, and gave him money to sweep their floors and pick up after Joe.

Eventually he did more. But, they took him in. When he tries to remember his muddled, confused state, and remembers now how dangerous he was and still could be, he is a little afraid for how naïve these people are.

After sleeping a few hours, he gasped himself awake, and lie in bed trying not to think. Finally, when he looks over at the clock, it’s time to get up. He showers again, because, no matter how cold the room sometimes gets, Bucky sweats at night. Sometimes he wakes soaked and wrung out. He tries not to think about why. After his shower, he chokes down a couple slices of white bread while putting on his work boots. 

Bucky begins the morning ritual, making coffee, turning on the ‘open’ sign, and turning on the lights and computer. He is hunkered down behind the computer with his coffee, when Joe comes barreling into the office.

He has the morning paper still in his hands. “The Aliens..” He sounds choked up. Joe stands right over Bucky, right in his space and shows the paper. “On the news. Please, tell me you watched the news” He begs. 

Bucky looks up and nods no.

Joe looks stricken, “We won. But Jesus, what a cost.” He holds the paper in front of Bucky and for a second his heart stops. The cover is victorious, Aliens Vanquished, We Won. Big headlines. In the bottom corner, on the cover is a photo of Captain America. He lies there, alien above him, and spear through his middle. He looks dead. Above the photo “Captain America Clings To Life”.

Everything came to a halt, just static in his head. Bucky suddenly found himself standing outside in the biting cold. Joe was saying something distantly. 

Eventually Joe grabbed his arm, and Bucky flinched, focusing. “James. James. Stop, just put on your coat first. Come on James. Just stop a second”

Bucky realized he was standing in the street as snow flurries danced in the air. A car swerved around them. Joe pulled Bucky until he was standing on the sidewalk. Bucky heard himself saying “I have to go..I have to go..”

“I hear you. You can’t just walk there, Buddy. Calm down and think for a second.” Bucky looked at Joe. He was also standing there in the street in his plaid thick work shirt, no coat, his breath coming out in white puffs. His voice was low and he kept putting his hand on Bucky’s arm trying to keep him out of the street. 

“I have to go.” Bucky heard himself say again. His face was cold, he felt the frozen tears on his cheeks, and rubbed his right hand over his face.

“Come inside. We’ll figure this out.” Joe led him back inside, holding his flesh right arm at the elbow. He held on this time as if he was afraid Bucky would go right back into the street again. Joe rarely touched Bucky, especially the left side, in the early days Bucky kept the left arm tucked up against him and never let anyone touch it. Joe always made sure to only touch Bucky’s right side.

“I have to go.” Bucky said as he bent to pick up the newspaper off the floor. The paper said Steve had been hurt somewhere in New Mexico. The battle was in Oak Bluff, New Mexico, wherever that was. “Oak Bluff” Bucky said.

“You have family there James?” 

“I, I just have to get there. I have to get to Steve.” 

“Steve? Is he related to you? Steve Barnes? We can call, or use the internet to get the number if you don’t have it. Okay?” Joe was sitting at the computer while Bucky just held the paper and stared at the photo.

“Steve Rogers. He doesn’t live there. Would the hospital tell us anything?”  
Bucky quietly said to Joe.

Joe stopped typing, and squinted at Bucky. “You mean like, Captain America, Steve Rogers?” Joe was starting to look wary.

“Yeah.” Bucky said softly. Joe thought he was crazy. James Barnes wants to see Captain America. He bets Joe is starting to wonder if James Barnes is his real name, or if he is just some crank. But, it didn’t matter. Even if they put him in jail afterwards, he had to see Steve again. He didn’t know, why but he had to. His chest was in a knot. He needed to see Steve one more time, then they could put him in jail. 

He never wanted to fight anyone again. The thought of blood made him feel nauseous, but he would fight to see Steve. He thought he had all the time in the world. Steve was now indestructible. He was wrong, he needed to see Steve now, before it was too late.

Bucky looked Joe in the eyes, and they both stared at each other. It was probably the longest he looked at Joe’s face ever. Joe looked older than Bucky thought, and his nose was red from the cold. But his brown eyes didn’t look angry. He looked a little sad, and his mouth was turned down.

“Okay, we’ll figure this out.” Joe said. “The paper said he was taken to New York City for treatment. Iron Man has some sort of big Avengers Tower set up for his friends.” Then he paused “Do you know them?” he asked cautiously.

“No” Bucky said. He couldn’t meet Joe’s eyes any more. Bucky turned and went to the stairs, he kept his duffle bag packed in case he had to leave in a hurry. He put on his coat and grabbed the bag. 

Joe was behind him in the doorway. “You gonna go anyways?” he said as Bucky looked over the room one last time. Bucky reached over and grabbed the last of the loaf of bread and stuffed it into his coat. “I’ll Drive.” Joe said, and Bucky looked up at his face again, surprised.

“You have to run the shop.”

“I can take the day off. One of the perks of being boss.” Joe was serious, no smile. He reached out to grab Bucky’s right forearm. “We can get this sorted out.”

They stood like that for a few seconds, Joe holding Bucky’s arm, while Bucky studied the floor. He knew Joe thought he was having some sort of breakdown. Maybe he was. Maybe when he found himself soaked, wandering the bank of the Potomac he was already crazy. He seemed crazy. Maybe he had never met Steve Rogers, or fought him on a Helicarrier. It didn’t matter. He needed to see Steve so much it made his chest ache, and his hands clench. Bucky nodded yes, and this seemed to break the spell, Joe turned and said “Let me get my coat” as he headed down the stairs. 

When Bucky reached the pickup truck, Joe was on the phone with Amy telling her they were heading to the city for the day. He would call her when they got there. 

It was a two hour drive. Joe was used to Bucky, and if he said anything it was mostly talking to himself, he didn’t expect Bucky to answer. Mostly Joe commented on how terrible city drivers were, or how pretty the farms looked.

The closer to the city they got, the more Bucky felt tense. He had to calm his breathing, and relax his muscles. Stop making fists. Sometimes he caught himself shaking, and tried to calm down. He kept thinking he was too late, and tried not to think those things. Because then hot tears started, and he would start shaking again. Joe would start talking and mention the view around them. Bucky realized he was trying to distract him from his own dark thoughts.

As they approached the city the drive became really bad. Bucky wanted to get out and run. He could run faster than this, a stop and go slow crawl, traffic lights and people everywhere. But the people in Avengers Tower would notice someone run miles at his unnatural speed and would brace for attack. He needed to get in. Once he got to the building, then no one could stop him.

Finally they turned a corner, Bucky could hear Joe talking about twenty dollar parking garages and he could see the entrance to Avengers Tower. As the traffic slowed for the millionth time, Bucky jumped out. He could hear Joe call after him. His duffle was still in the truck, he didn’t need or want it.

Bucky timed it right, and entered as a suited woman went through the doors. Security was coming up to him immediately, and he just dodged around them, heading for the stairs. Before he made it to the third floor, Security was coming down the stairwell. He dodged through the second floor doorway and ran the length of the hall dodging into offices and jumping up into the air vent. He crawled a short distance and punched his way up into the third floor where he found it suspiciously empty. 

He ran toward another stairwell and up the stairs anyways. It was empty and quiet for twenty floors. At the twenty-second floor, the door to the stairs opened as he approached. He stepped back, ready to fight his way up. 

A head poked around, and looked down the stairwell. Bucky ducked incase they were ready to shoot. This had to be a trap. He knew that. He was breathing hard and sweating from nerves, the twenty-one floor run was a walk in the park for a super soldier. Finally when he didn’t hear any shots, he carefully looked up. The head was gone. 

Cautiously, Bucky walked up the stairs, he was exposed, but so close. He realized he had no idea where he was going. He could have already run past Steve. He should have looked on the internet. There was probably all sorts of info on Avengers Tower on there. It was too late now. He let emotion run this show. And now he had to just live with it. When he approached the open door, someone was standing there. Bucky twitched back and almost fell down the stairs. Then he saw him and froze. Steve was standing there in gray sweats and sneakers. He looked pale and bruised, but he was standing on his own, smiling at Bucky. Bucky grabbed the railing, before he fell, everything was spinning. Steve stopped smiling and came into the stairwell. 

Bucky backed up a step, he looked down and around for a way out. He didn‘t have a plan for this. He didn’t know what to do. Bucky thought Steve was in a hospital bed clinging to life. He didn‘t have a plan for that either. His mind couldn’t wrap itself around what his final words to Steve would be. He just knew he needed to see Steve again. 

Bucky realized Steve had been talking, repeating “Hey, Bucky it’s okay. It’s good to see you.” Steve had a small smile and was cautiously reaching out to Bucky with one hand. Bucky realized he had moved down a few more steps. He was getting closer to the landing on the floor below. A few more steps and he could make a break for it. But, if he could get down a few more floors, jumping from a window was a possibility. Joe wouldn’t be happy about being a getaway driver, but he wouldn’t be surprised, he already thought Bucky was crazy. He knew he shouldn’t drag Joe into his crazy. Joe didn’t deserve it. 

Bucky’s thoughts went a mile a minute as he edged down the stairwell while Steve kept talking, slowly following Bucky down the steps. Steve was giving him space, but not too much space, he was still too close. If it came to a fight Steve was wounded, Bucky would win. Bucky knew he was still strong, crazy but strong. The look in Steve’s eyes was definitely driving home the idea that Bucky was crazy. He looked sad. 

They both edged down the stairwell for two floors. Bucky was focused on figuring out a plan. He needed a way out. Steve continued his reassurances “Hey, Bucky it’s okay. It’s been a while, I didn’t think I would see you again.” 

Bucky’s memory was shot. He actively tried to forget his dreams, put them out of his mind. But his subconscious kept pushing things into his head anyways. Things he didn’t know how to deal with. Pieces of memories. Colors. Sometimes smells. Little things, but Bucky didn’t know how to piece them together. Bucky knew he could fly a plane, but he couldn’t remember what his parents looked like. He remembered shooting targets outside in the dead of winter, but he couldn’t remember a single Christmas.

Steve was still talking, Bucky wondered how quickly he must heal. That wound looked pretty serious in the newspaper. 

He wondered if he had gone down far enough to jump, or should he keep going. He heard Steve say “It’s okay Bucky. Your safe. No one is going to hurt you.” That made Bucky bark out a laugh. It startled both of them, and they looked at each other. It was the first time Bucky looked at Steve directly since he first saw him in the doorway. Bucky had a flash of a similar stairwell lined with bodies and blood. The blood was slippery on the stairs, and he needed to watch his footing. He tried to block out those thoughts, tried not to let the crazy get out.

“You were stabbed by an alien two days ago. You should be worried I’m going to hurt you.” Bucky said, surprised by his own words. “Unless this is a trap after all.”

“You think I had aliens invade the planet and nearly kill me on national television just to trap you?” Steve asked “You’re still pretty full of yourself.” He said smiling.

“I saw it in the paper.” and Bucky pulled the crumpled, torn article out of his jacket pocket.

He held it out to Steve, who looked down and cringed. “That is not a flattering angle.”

“I thought you were gonna die.” Bucky said with a frown.

“I thought so too. There were a lot of aliens.” Steve smiled again. “I could use some more people I trust to watch my back.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and his breathing picked up. Steve was still there, but everything went fuzzy around the edges. Bucky thinks Steve was saying something, he could hear his voice but not make out the words. Bucky felt the railing in the stairwell crumple in his left hand, and looked at it surprised. He looked up at Steve again, and Steve looked worried again. 

When Bucky found his voice again it seemed so faint, he couldn’t find it in himself to speak above a whisper. “I won’t kill for anyone again. Not even you. Not even aliens.”

“That’s fine Buck. I didn’t mean to say I expected you to.” Steve said “You don’t have to fight anymore. It’s okay.”

“I’m crazy, not stupid. They have aliens out there. They,..You want me to help fight them. How could you not. It’s all I know how to do.” Bucky hissed, he still lacked in volume, but was gaining in anger.

“No Bucky. We can handle this. We did handle this. It’s done, they’re gone.” Steve had moved closer to Bucky but had stopped a safe distance away.

From the open door a few floors above a head poked out and looked down. “Steve, you really should lie down. Invite your Buddy up for a drink.” He yelled into the stairwell. Bucky recognized Iron Man from the magazines. He was always on Joe’s ‘Popular Mechanics’ covers. Guy had a lot of cool inventions.

“Iron Man thinks you should lie down.” Bucky said, his voice sounded more normal. Bucky also noticed Steve looked more tired and pale than when they started. “I think he’s right. I should go.”

“Can you tell me where you live? Can I get in touch with you later?”

“I’m sure Stark has run the license plate by now. I don’t live with them, I live over the garage next door.”

“Okay. Good.”

“I don’t remember much. But if you want to drive two hours to tell me stories about my childhood, knock yourself out.” Bucky said shrugging. 

“That would be great.” Steve said smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky has been back at the garage for two weeks since his visit to Avengers Tower. It was just enough time to get back into the rhythm of normal life, the routine. But Bucky had changed. He knew the crazy dreams were real, he couldn’t deny them any more. 

In the stairwell of the Avengers Tower, Steve Rogers looked him in the face and knew him. Bucky couldn’t comprehend the full implications of that. It made the helicarrier real. The fight with Captain America was real. James Buchanan Barnes was his real name, and he was in World War II. He worked for HYDRA. He didn’t want to think about that. He tried to put it out of his mind, but every time he saw his left hand, it made him stop and stare. Bucky had begun wearing a glove all the time, even in his own room. When he showered, he held the hand behind his back. Looking at the whole arm made him nauseous now. 

Before Avengers Tower, Bucky knew everyone around him thought he was crazy and damaged. Now, Bucky wished he was crazy, wished the dreams were made up. A terrible fantasy imagined by a mind that could possibly be well again. Now, Bucky flinched away from people, because he knew it wasn’t imaginary. Now, He never looked people in the eyes because he was afraid they would see the blood and death that rose from his skin like a mist. Like a tangible red haze till he wanted to scream.

It took over a week from the visit to Avengers Tower, that Bucky began to feel like his skin wasn’t crawling anymore. He was unfocused for a week, and everyone around him could see it. From the moment when he emerged from the Tower, and stood on the sidewalk blankly looking at his shoes, Joe walked up to him and took his arm, leading him back to the truck. Bucky was lost in a fog. It wasn’t then that he remembered anything. Not in that moment. It was more that he couldn’t focus on anything. He didn’t really remember much about the first few days back. He didn’t remember the drive. He remembered Joe sending him back upstairs to rest. He remembered waking to find meals covered in aluminum foil sitting on the stand next to his TV. He tried to eat but had trouble swallowing. Left the mostly uneaten plates of food sitting out while he returned to hide under the blankets. Sleep until things made sense again. He would wake to find new plates of fresh meals, and the old ones taken away. Notes scrawled by Joe under the plates. Joe was afraid Bucky was going to end up like his cousin. Joe was afraid, and he came in and woke Bucky, making him show that he was still alive and breathing. Bucky remembered it, but it was a bit of a blur.

By the end of the week, he was able to eat. Soon after, he ventured down the stairs. Joe and Amy stopped talking when they saw him on the stairwell. Amy lit up, but Joe still looked cautious. Joe was filthy on his left side from lying under a truck all day, and Amy was standing holding a stained cardboard box with an old oily gear-shaft. “Hey, James. Good to see you up.” Amy cheerfully said.

Eyes focused on her feet, Bucky nodded, stopped on the stairwell. He was torn between wanting to flee upstairs, and knowing he has imposed on their charity too long. It added another notch to the guilt he felt swamping him. He was saved from himself when Joe added “Yeah. Glad your up. I could use your help with this truck.“ Joe smiled now. “We remember now why I had the ‘help wanted’ sign up in the first place. Amy and I don’t work well together.”

Amy turned to Joe and scowled “If you didn’t throw things on the floor we would work together fine. I don’t know how you put up with him, James.” She said and put the oily box next to the overflowing trash in the corner. “I’m going into the house, call if you need anything.” she said on her way out. 

A frosty wind blew into the garage before she closed the door. The big garage bay was always cold, Joe wore two heavy plaid work shirts. The heater in the corner was turned on high, but only worked if you stood within a few feet of it. Bucky had come down stairs in his coat. The cold in the garage was already making him shiver. Soon though, after hauling the trash to the dumpster, sweeping the garage, and putting boxes of parts onto shelves, Bucky began to feel clearer, more focused. He pulled off his coat in the office, and poured a cup of coffee for Joe. Joe was back under the truck, and slid out when Bucky approached with the coffee. 

Joe took the coffee and sipped “I need you to go back in the office, print off the invoices and get them in the mail.” he said before setting the cup down on his rolling cart of tools. Joe slid back under the truck as Bucky returned to the office. Inside the office Bucky felt his chest uncoil, and soon everything began to fall back into place. Bucky could do this. One foot in front of the other, slowly move forward.

Soon things returned to almost normal. Bucky talked less than before, and Joe never asked what happened in the Tower. Bucky tried to pretend the dreams were just dreams. The fog lifted from his brain, and he was more focused on the world around him. He actually laughed at one of Amy’s stories about someone at the farmers market, and everyone stopped and stared, startled by the outburst. Then everyone laughed again.

It was two weeks from the day Bucky burst into Avengers tower, right at dusk, the sky is bright orange and the air is crisp. The outside customer door to the office opens and Bucky looks up from where he is sweeping in the garage, watching a silhouette move into the office. Joe was rooting through his tool bench and wipes his hand on a rag and heads into the office. Bucky freezes and breaks into a sweat. He would know Steve Rogers anywhere, he just knows he can. Steve and Joe greet each other shaking hands. Steve is holding a bag from the diner across the street. Bucky recognizes the bag. Joe stays in the office and points through to the garage. Steve emerges from the office door, holding the bag in front of him and smiling. 

“I brought burgers.” Steve jiggles the bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was finished. I was wrong, part 3 is almost done. That will be the real end. Maybe.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve stands there with the burgers while Bucky stares. Joe leans into the garage and yells “I’m going home. Go on James, call it a day.”

The outside door clicks closed. Bucky leans the broom against the wall and heads up the stairs. He pauses when Steve doesn’t immediately follow, and Steve gets the cue and hurries to catch up.

Once inside Bucky’s room Steve turns a circle and takes in the entirety of Bucky’s new existence. It reminds Steve of their childhood when people lived simply, not having much in the way of non essential stuff. Bucky had some library books and a lamp on an end-table next to a neatly made twin bed. An old small TV sat on a stand in the corner. Between the TV stand and the bedside table is an armless wooden chair with an army duffle bag on it. Bucky moves the duffle bag to the corner by the foot of the bed then bends down to turn on the space heater in the cold room. 

Steve sits in the chair, and asks “Want me to turn the TV on?” Bucky shrugs and Steve leaves it off, setting the bag of burgers next to the TV. Bucky rummages the duffle then walks past Steve and heads for the bathroom, and closes the door. Steve can hear the sink running, and waits while Bucky cleans up. There is a handmade blue and gray afghan neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Other than that, the room is bare. Nothing on the walls. Nothing to show a person has been living here for months, if not longer.

Steve jumps a little when Bucky pops the door open. He is in a clean collared denim shirt and a gray sweatshirt over top. He’s still in his work jeans with it’s ingrained stains. Bucky’s sweatshirt looks almost new. When Bucky moves past Steve toward the bed Steve notices Bucky has another glove on the left hand. A clean brown leather glove, nothing like the filthy heavy gray work glove he had on earlier.

As Bucky sits, Steve asks “So, how have you been?” 

For the first time Steve notices Bucky isn’t looking him in the eyes. His gaze stays on Steve’s shoes as he clears his throat “Fine.” he rasps out and clears his throat again, his gaze flickering to Steve’s face for half a second “You look better. You looked pretty lousy before.”

Steve laughs “Thanks, I guess.” Then Steve turns to grab the bag. He pulls out the burgers and hands one to Bucky “I got fries too. I don’t know where you want them.”

Bucky is unwrapping the burger “You eat em. I can’t eat fries.”

“Really?” Steve asks, eyebrows up.

“Too much grease.” Bucky replies without looking up from the burger he is busy dissecting. He neatly pulls the burger’s layers apart, carefully setting them on the paper wrapper. Then he reassembles it the way he wants it. He leaves the lettuce, onion and pickle off. The tomato gets examined and put back into the burger. 

Steve just takes a bite of his burger and watches Bucky work. “Next time I can get them to leave that stuff off.” Steve offers. “Too bad about the fries, you used to love fried foods.”

Bucky shrugs as he takes a bite of the burger “I don’t remember what I used to like. I just know some stuff doesn’t like me.”

“Huh. Your mom used to fry a lot. I think everyone did back then.” Steve said nostalgically, while reaching for a handful of fries.

Bucky had paused and was looking at Steve. When Steve noticed, Bucky returned to looking at his burger which he held in his lap. Around a mouthful of fries Steve asked “Burger Okay?”

“What did.. ” Bucky choked on his words, cleared his throat and started again. “You remember them?” he paused “I don’t even remember what they looked like.”

Steve felt his eyes get hot. “Yeah, Buck I remember them. What do you want to know?”

“Everything I guess. Anything you could remember.” he said still not looking up.

“Well, that’ll take a while.” Steve said laughing.

And for the next few hours Steve told story after story about Bucky’s parents, sister, and grandparents. He told about Bucky’s apartment, school, and life in general. Bucky started out studying Steve’s shoes as he spoke, slowly his eyes moved up to Steve’s face. Occasionally Steve would veer away from a subject when he would see Bucky’s eyes get glassy, or he would bite his lip and look down again. Steve never ventured toward the later years. He would save war stories for a time when Bucky could look him in the eyes.

As midnight approached, Steve stood, stretched and cracked his back. “Well, I guess you have work tomorrow. I have to get back to the city. They are having a fundraiser for the New Mexico victims tomorrow night.” 

“Sure, Sure” Bucky said standing. “Thanks” he whispered. Then he looked Steve in the eyes “Thank You.” 

“Of course.” Steve smiled and put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder “I can come back and talk your ear off again if you want.” 

Bucky nodded “Yeah.”

Then Steve was gone. Bucky heard the motorcycle heading down the quiet street. Lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling, he tried to process the stories. It wasn’t like remembering them on his own. He tried to piece any memories he had into the framework of the new information. He fell asleep trying to remember anything about his family and coming up with only shadows and glimpses.

That night, Bucky dreams about going to the movies with a small Steve, then being rescued by a larger Steve. He dreams of fire, snow, trains and falling. He wakes shaky and twitchy.

When Joe comes to work in the morning Bucky is still shaky and jumpy, but by the afternoon he is fine.

Three days later Steve shows again with a pizza. Bucky just looks at him and says “I can’t eat that.”  
Steve frowns, “It’s just a cheese pizza. From Rosa’s.” Bucky still looked blank, and Steve continued. “Rosa’s is across the street from your parents apartment building. It’s still there. The restaurant, not the apartment. We used to go there, but not for pizza.” Bucky’s expression didn’t change. “We can blot off any extra grease.” Bucky shrugs and heads up the stairs. 

Once in the room, Steve blots the heck out of the pizza while Bucky cleans up. Not much grease comes up on the napkins. He warned them before they made it. The people in Rosa’s were thrilled with the concept that Captain America used to eat there, and was actually back in their restaurant. They would have made him a pizza any way he wanted.

After they start on their pizza, Steve is pleased that Bucky after a hesitant first couple bites, wolfs down a few slices. 

After the first slice, Steve asks “So, what do you want to know today?” 

Bucky looks up and mumbles around a mouthful of pizza “My parents, my sister. Family stuff.”

“Well, I know quite a lot about that.” Steve laughed and then Steve talks for two hours before heading home. Steve is thrilled, that since he arrived at the garage Bucky had looked him in the face, most of the time right in the eyes. Bucky mostly only looked down when he needed more pizza, or a drink. 

Once when Steve was caught up in the moment, telling a story he had told a million times, he blurted out “What was her name? Your third cousin, who dropped the fish back into the bay?” He paused expecting the familiar backup of a person who had also lived the story. Instead, Bucky’s face fell and he looked at his shoes for a while until Steve recovered enough to get the story back on track. Other than that one slip up, Steve knew how to tell Bucky a story. He knew what Bucky liked to hear, and delivered. Bucky looked pleased for most of the visit, less awkward, less withdrawn.

After Steve leaves, Bucky dreams about snow, and Christmas Midnight Mass with his family. He dreams about Steve rescuing him and relief. He sees fire, snow, trains, and falling. He wakes waiting for Steve to rescue him and terrified. His heart is hammering in his chest. He barely makes it to the bathroom before he is sick. 

By opening time he makes it downstairs, pale, shaky and jumpy. He visibly twitches every time a car door closes, or Joe drops a wrench. He feels wired, and itchy in his skin. By the end of the day he finally pulls himself together, and feels more in control.

The next two days are rough. Wind and ice, and everyone seemed to wind up in a ditch. The tow truck ran non stop, day and night. During the last call, he had to practically lift a car from a muddy, slushy ditch, in order to hook the chains to the mired vehicle. Joe manned the wench, while the driver looked on in relief. Bucky ended up soaked up to his thighs, thick mud caked on his boots from where his feet sunk down into the icy muck. 

Afterwards, he was trying to catch a quick nap on the couch between calls, boots drying by the space heater. Bucky was sore, tired and filthy when Steve showed up. He was also surprised. Steve thankfully, was in a car, and not crazy enough to risk the weather on his motorcycle. Bucky had wrongly assumed Steve would stay home until the weather cleared up. 

Steve brought meatloaf and mashed potatoes, which all three of them shared right in the office. Since the weather was still hadn’t fully cleared, they took another call soon after Steve arrived. Steve insisted on helping, and Joe stayed at the office and took a nap. 

The task went much more quickly with two super-soldiers to hook up a compact car. When Bucky sent Steve back out onto the icy field to get part of the bumper that ripped off, Steve slid out and ended up breaking through the ice falling into a puddle. He landed on his butt, and when he stood his pants were covered in slushy mud. Bucky looked shocked, and Steve smiled awkwardly when he got back to the truck. The customer sat in the warm cab and howled with laughter, while she banged her mitten covered hand on the window. 

Bucky looked at Steve critically, “You can’t get in the cab like that.” 

Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky was kidding “Do you want me to walk back?”

“You have to sit on the tarp.” He said while he threw the bumper piece into the back of the truck. 

“In the warm cab, right?” Steve asked.

“Don’t get the customer dirty.” Bucky said as he pulled a tarp from a box in the back of the truck. Steve looked at the dried mud covering Bucky’s jeans and still wasn’t sure if Bucky was kidding or not.

When Steve pulled open the door, the girl inside in her pink mittens and hello kitty hat gladly slid over. He put the tarp on the seat and climbed in.

Once he settled, she looked him right in the eyes, “Wow, your eyes are really blue. This is the best day ever. I took a video. Wanna watch” she said holding up her phone. 

He sat next to her as Bucky drove. Steve watched a video of himself helping pull her car from the field, and another where he walks out into the field and slips. It wasn’t a graceful fall, and you could see the video shake and hear the girl howl. In the corner of the screen Steve could see Bucky drop the chains he was holding and lurch forward. Then when Steve awkwardly waved from his hole in the muddy puddle, Bucky visibly sighed and picked up the chains he dropped.

“I haven’t decided what to call it yet.” She said. “I could go simple ‘Cap lands on ass.’ or ..” She looked at him and he looked a little shocked. “You aren’t gonna get mad if I put this online are you?” 

Bucky looked over at him from the driver’s seat. Steve smiled, “No. It’s fine. Embarrassing but fine.”

When they get back, both Steve and Bucky go upstairs to Bucky’s room and get cleaned up. Bucky loans Steve an old pair of pants and a shirt that doesn’t really fit, but he makes due. They are too big for Steve, and he thinks they must swamp Bucky. Joe said he would knock if they got another call, but hopefully everyone was smart and would stay off the road at night. 

Steve stays hours telling Bucky about birthdays, grandparents, cousins and school. Before midnight Steve leaves, telling Bucky he got a room just down the street at a motel, and in the morning he will drive back. He jokes that he will call them if he slides into the ditch.

That night Bucky dreams about birthday cake. His dreams shift and he is in the snow, and Steve rescuing him. He dreams of fire, snow, trains and falling. Waiting for Steve to rescue him. Snow covered in blood. Waiting for Steve. Someone is sawing off his arm. Waiting, wishing, waiting. Finding out Steve is dead in the ice. Cold dread. Steve is dead.

That morning Bucky throws up for an hour. He can’t go down to the office. After opening time, Joe comes up and finds him lying on the bathroom floor pale and covered in sweat. Joe covers him in the afghan, and gets him a glass of water. A half hour later, Joe comes back up and gets Bucky into bed, and leaves him to rest again. By noon, Bucky comes down and tries to type invoices. He has trouble focusing on the screen, but struggles through them. Finally, when he is done, he goes into the garage to clean up and take out the trash. When he comes back inside, Joe drops a socket wrench. Bucky jumps backwards flipping a toolbox, the loud clattering crash as the tools spill out sends Bucky diving under a workbench along the wall. He backs into a corner where he shakes for close to a half hour while Joe tries to coax him out.

Bucky hasn’t fully recovered from the last visit by the time he knows Steve will be there to visit again. It has been three days. Steve will be here soon, and it is making Bucky more anxious. Finally, he looks at Joe “I can’t tonight.” he says.

Joe frowns “I was going to tell you I didn’t think it was a good idea. But, It’s not my call.”

Bucky stands focusing on Joe’s grimy work boots. “Can you tell him, I can’t.. Tell him I’m tired.”

“Sure. Sure. When he gets here, I’ll tell him you worked late, and went to bed. It’ll be fine.” Joe slumped into the chair behind the office desk, and Bucky quietly slips up the stairs to his room. 

By closing time, Steve shows up with baked chicken and potato salad. Joe meets him at the door of the garage. He awkwardly looks past Steve at the car he drove, when he says “James isn’t feeling too great tonight, he hit the hay early. Sorry you drove all this way.” Joe doesn’t look him in the eyes tonight.

Steve isn’t sure what’s going on ,but is polite anyways. “Oh, Okay. That’s fine. I guess I’ll see him in a few days if he’s up for it.” Steve turns towards the car, and Joe hurries inside. As Steve opens the car door, he looks across towards the diner. He closes the door instead, and heads into the diner ordering chicken soup to go.

When Steve opens the door to the garage office, Joe looks surprised. Joe stands in front of Steve, physically blocking his path. Steve says “I brought soup.” and tries to smile, but he can see something is wrong. 

Joe runs his hand over his face, and frowns. “Look. He can’t take any more of this. Your visits are turning him inside out. He takes longer and longer to get right after you visit. This time he still isn’t right. Maybe he needs a break. Just give him more time to get back on his feet.” Joe pauses as he looks up at Steve’s face. Steve has gone pale.

“I thought he. He asks me to tell him. About them. His family.” Steve stammered. He wasn’t making sense. He felt blindsided. This wasn’t what he expected, at all. “I should bring him the soup. Apologize.”

“No. Do Not go up there.” Joe emphasizes each word. “I will bring him the darn soup. He spent a half hour today, backed into a corner shaking..” Joe stops as he hears the door behind him open. Steve looks even more stricken.

“It’s Okay Joe. I got this.” Bucky nods at Joe, and Joe nods back. Bucky looks embarrassed, pale with dark rings under his eyes.

As Joe slides from the office grabbing his coat he says “I’m right next door if you need me.”

When the door clicks closed, Steve immediately says “I’m so sorry. I thought you wanted to know. I..”

“I do” Bucky jumps in. “I just need some time to process in-between.”

“Okay, I can give you however much time you need.” They both look at their shoes for a while before Steve hands Bucky the soup. “Here.” Then as he heads towards the door, “I’ll call first next time. You can tell me if you’re ready.” 

Bucky stands there holding the soup in the flimsy plastic bag watching Steve get back into the car and drive up the street. He sets the bag in the tiny office fridge and heads up stairs. He reads most of the night, hoping to keep the dreams to a minimum. 

Close to dawn he falls asleep with the book in his hands. He dreams of Easter Sunday dinner. Steve rescuing him, then relief. Suddenly, there is snow, trains, falling, waiting for Steve. Snow and waiting for Steve. Steve is dead. Cold rooms, darkness, dread. Steve is dead. 

Joe enters the cold quiet office at 8am. After a half hour, he knocks quietly on Bucky’s door, and hears talking. He wonders if Steve stayed all night, and heads back down to the garage to get started in the office. After a few hours Amy comes by, asks what they want for lunch. Joe tells her Bucky is still up in his room with Steve. 

Amy looks confused “Steve left yesterday. He was booked at the Johnson’s motel, but checked out early. They put a photo on facebook again.”

Joe jumps up before she finishes talking and heads up the stairs. He knocks loudly this time. He can hear talking. No one answers. Amy is right behind him, and Joe sends her back downstairs. Joe fumbles for the emergency key he keeps tucked on top of the doorframe. Joe slowly turns the knob. Inside he finds James wedged into the corner by the foot of the bed, sitting on the floor with his arms around his knees. His eyes are empty and he is repeating his name, rank and serial number.

Joe runs downstairs and calls Steve.

Less than a half hour later a helicopter hovers over the garage and Steve jumps out. He smoothly makes the twenty foot jump, rolls into a run and dashes up the stairs. Joe is sitting on the cold wood floor quietly talking to Bucky who stares blankly through Joe, continuously mumbling. 

Joe quietly gets up and Steve takes his place. Bucky stops repeating and blinks at Steve. His eyes struggle to focus as he looks at Steve and frowns. “You’re dead.” he states.

“No. I’m here with you. We’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Steve holds out his hand, trying to get Bucky off of the cold floor. 

Bucky just looks at the hand. “They showed me the newspapers. You died. I was on a train.” Bucky blinked looking more confused. Then quietly, like he was telling a secret, he leaned in and whispered, “I think I fell off the train. I should have died too. Why do I look like I did in the war? Why can’t I remember anything? Why is my arm…” He stopped. Unable to complete the last question.

“During the War we fought a group called HYDRA Buck. They had you for a while and did some bad things to you. I’m so sorry.” Steve reached out to put his hand on Bucky’s arm. Bucky had his arms wrapped around his legs, and flinched when Steve touched him. Steve just rested his hand there and Bucky seemed to relax after a while.

Quietly Bucky mumbled “HYDRA brings order. If one head is cut off, two more.. I think I did things... for HYDRA. After you were dead.” Bucky closed his eyes. They sat together for a while. Eventually Bucky opened his eyes, “What are you wearing?”

Steve looked down at his rumpled black jacket, loosened black tie and crisp white shirt. “A tux?” He said sheepishly. 

Bucky closed his eyes and tipped his head back. They sat together in silence for a few more minutes. Without opening his eyes, Bucky pointed out “You have lipstick on your collar.” Steve smiled sheepishly.

Then it suddenly seemed to register, Bucky’s eyes popped open and got wide. “Jesus, you have lipstick on your collar.” He pushed at the wall and tried to stand. “And here you are sittin on the floor with me as I crack up. I am so sorry.” 

“No.” Steve barked while holding Bucky’s arm, trying to steady him as he went to sit on the bed. “Don’t say that. Joe called, and I came. This was more important. You would have done the same. You have done the same.” Steve sat in the wooden chair and pulled himself around until the chair was in front of Bucky.

Bucky sat slumped forward his hands on his face. “I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here.” 

“Here in Joe’s garage? I don’t think he minds.” Steve half joked.

Hands over his eyes Bucky continued. “Not that. Not just that. These people don’t know what I’ve done. How could they, I can’t even really remember. I don’t want to remember. I don’t belong here.”

Steve cut him off “Buck, you have to stop. Please, I’ve been talking to a friend, about all of this. It’s good. You want normal. You don’t want to hurt people.”

In anger, Bucky kicked out at Steve, catching the chair leg, pushing his chair back. “How do you know what I want? What I am capable of? I don’t even know.”

“Buck” Steve tried to stop him.

“I tried to kill you. I remember that. It is one of the clearest memories I have. I shot you, I stabbed you, I beat you. I would have killed you.” Every point was punctuated by a jab of Bucky’s finger to Steve’s chest.

Steve leaned forward challenging Bucky. “You saved me when I fell into the water.”

“You don’t know that.” Bucky countered.

“You stopped hitting me right before I fell.”

“My arm was tired from hitting your face.”

Steve laughed.

Scowling Bucky said “That was not meant to be funny.” 

“Well, it was.” Steve said still smiling.

Bucky sat back on his bed, and crossed his arms. Steve stopped smiling and also sat back. “So what do you want?” They stared at each other. Bucky’s jaw twitched and he searched Steve’s face.

“I want to turn back time and undo everything.” He shrugged “But since that’s not possible, I just want to make the dreams stop. I , I would rather not remember than this. It’s making me crazy.”

“They have doctor’s who can help.”

Bucky‘s eyes widened and he swallowed, “Head shrinkers, you mean for a lobotomy?”

Bucky closed his eyes as Steve quickly said “No Buck, they have doctors who specialize in POW’s and Shell Shock, they call it something else now.”

“I wasn’t a POW, I …”

Steve cut him off frowning “You were. You can’t remember things because they used a machine on you to make you forget. Make you do what they wanted.”

Bucky paused at that, eyes snapping open. “That’s why I can’t remember? A machine?” Saying the words made him shiver. He looked surprised. “Can you dial the machine to give me back the good stuff? Not the crap after the train. Or the war. Not any of that junk.”

“Sorry, I don’t think it works that way. Even if we had the machine.”

“How do I make the dreams stop? I can’t function like this. ” He said, arms crossed tightly.

“I can stop visiting? Give you a break?” Steve shrugged.

“No. No.” Bucky insisted.

“I think I trigger the bad dreams. I should stay away for a while.”

“I wouldn’t remember any of the good stuff if you didn’t come by. It would only be bad. I couldn’t live that way. I remembered a lot of really bad things right away.” Bucky huffed an unhappy laugh. “I thought I was crazy. I thought my brain made up all of the killing. There was no way it was real, it seemed too insane, too bizarre. But then I have this.” He waved his gloved metal hand. “I didn’t know how to explain it.” he stared at his hands in his lap for a while. “I wish I was crazy, and I made that stuff up. I prayed for it to go away, but it just became clearer, more concrete.”

“I’m sorry Buck.”

“I could make myself not think about it. I could function before.” Bucky put his hands over his face and took a big shaky breath. “I think seeing you is what made things worse. I remembered that you died. Or, I thought you were dead.” He swallowed and let out another breath. “They said you died.”

“I’m right here.” Steve let out a shaky breath too. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky shook his head “You should be out there with the girl who marked up your suit.”

“Definitely not.” Steve laughed. “Last night was like shilling War Bonds. Modern drunk rich girls can be very forward. And handsy. They brought in a lot of dough to help kids with cancer, so I guess it was worth it.”

Picking at a hole in his sweatpants Bucky asks “Why are you still dressed like that? It’s morning right?” He folds his arms again and gives a shudder.

“Almost noon. I couldn’t sleep. I got back to the city last night in time for the fundraiser, but I was still wired when it was done. I went walking. I just got back when Joe called.” Steve said moving to bring the heater closer with the toe of his shoe.

Both of them stared at the heater for a few minutes. Clearing his throat, Steve began “Seriously, Bucky. There are doctors who can help you. I have been to close to a dozen fundraisers for Veterans organizations. I have gotten a stack of cards from people who help soldiers recover. I have already had people help me get things lined up for when you are ready.”

Bucky looked Steve in the eyes and frowned. “How long have you been looking into this?”

Smiling a little, Steve looked Bucky right back in the eyes. “Since I was in the hospital last year.”

“In the hospital? After I shot you?” Bucky’s jaw dropped, and he sucked in a quick breath.

“There were a lot of doctors, and I had time to kill.” Steve smiled. “They are ready when you are Buck. Just say the word.”

“How did you know I would turn up?” Bucky said defiantly.

Laughing Steve said, “Maybe I figured if aliens stabbed me enough times you would come watch my back.” Bucky frowned. “Just kidding.” Steve added. 

“I’m not gonna fight.” Bucky said.

“It’s Okay. I got the aliens. They’re not as tough as they look.” Steve smirked. “I just need you to fight to get better.”

Leaning forward and running his hand over the back of his head Bucky said, “Maybe. If you have a guy lined up. I could see somebody. If you think it would help.” Bucky stared at his shoes. “You’re not locking me up in the looney bin, are you?” Bucky sighed looking up at Steve.

Steve looked serious “Do you trust me?”

Bucky sat up “Yeah.” He closed his eyes took a deep breath then opened his eyes. “Sign me up.”


End file.
